


tomorrow (is another story)

by Anonymous



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For my KamCon drabbles, generally <1k.Chapter 1. Demon AU.“I’m sorry.” Connor says. “I didn’t mean to summon you, actually.”The demon frowns at him over reading glasses that look like they date from the 1900s.





	tomorrow (is another story)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiyodayo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyodayo/gifts).



> Trying to motivate myself to write something (small) every day. May as well be gifted to hiyodayo because their fics made this my main ship.

“I’m sorry.” Connor says. “I didn’t mean to summon you, actually.”

The demon frowns at him over reading glasses that look like they date from the 1900s.

There’s a glass of whiskey in his hand and he’s reclining on Connor’s threadbare couch like the sagging thing is a 17th century chaise lounge. There’s the tiny detail that he seems to be dressed in a black robe and nothing else.

“You _didn’t_ mean to summon me?” The demon asks, disappointed. He looks mildly vexed at the thought of having being accidentally invoked from the nether realm. Perhaps he was in the middle of something, considering the robe looks slightly damp.

After a moment the demon shrugs, swirling the alcohol in his glass. “Are you looking to make a contract anyway?” His voice is pitched with an odd depth, something entirely otherworldly that echoes in the room’s confines- it might sound more thrilling, had the supernatural inflection not been completely missing a moment ago.

“I’m sorry.” Connor says again, his hands in his pockets. “I’m not looking for something like a contract at the moment.” There is a pause and he adds, quite politely, “Would you like to leave?”

The demon frowns. “Leave? Oh now that _is_ moving things a little fast, I haven’t been back on this side in quite some time. Ten years, if I had to put a number on it.”

Still looking rather put out, he takes another sip of whiskey. “So _few_ summonings manage to make it through to me, it would be a shame to leave so soon, wouldn’t you agree?” The demon’s eyes travel across the room, landing on a mug with his name emblazoned in robins-egg blue. “Connor.”

He knew he should have thrown that mug away. Even though it had been a gift from Hank.

“... Would you like some tea?” Connor asks, and tacks on: “My lord.” It’s only polite. He’s heard a few demons enjoy flowery titles such as: ‘your supreme exaltedness’, ‘your cardinal darkness’, or even ‘your dastardly overlordship’. He’s not sure he has the mental capacity to perform all that obsequiousness. Perhaps if it becomes necessary.

“ _Please_ ,” the demon waves a hand, “Formality wears so thin. Elijah is fine.”

Something must show on Connor’s face because the demon’s mouth curls into a smirk. Connor does not ask the origins of the name, and the demon does not explain.

“Since you seemed so surprised to see me, I presume you _didn’t_ realize you were living in a summoning circle.”

Connor frowns. “I’d appreciate knowing how you came to be here, yes.”

The demon hums, examining the floor. “Since you were cleaning when the circle activated, it was probably the detergent.” He taps the carpet with a cane that appears out of nowhere; an eagle topped cane. It looks expensive and antique.

The carpet splits down the middle and reveals brown-ish lines that look like they might have been painted using blood, dark runes and arcane symbols etched into the floorboards. “The previous residents were rather irresponsible, it seems.”

Connor blinks, and after a moment of calculating where the circle's perimeter ends, he loosens his hand from the vial of holy water in his pocket. “So it appears,” he agrees.

He should have known. The sole reason he’d been able to afford this apartment was the minor fact the former residents had been found dead in the living room a month and a half ago. It had lowered the price of the place considerably.

He shouldn’t have rented this place at all.

“Would you be able to repair the carpet?” Connor says aloud.

The carpet folds back on itself and knits together without a word.

“Thank you.”

“The circle is quite well made.” Elijah offers. “Enough to offer protection from lower and middle tier demons.” Kindly, the demon declines to mention that Connor is currently stood inside the circle with him, and therefore any protection has been made void anyway.

There is a moment of silence wherein Connor contemplates the likelihood of his almost certain doom.

His mobile phone starts ringing.

“May I?” Connor asks, wondering if the call is urgent. It’s four in the afternoon and a weekday.

Elijah sips his whiskey. “Go ahead,” he says magnanimously. Connor swipes his phone screen and lifts it to his ear.

_“Connor.”_

“Mr. Seymor. Good afternoon.”

Under his palm, the table he’d been in the middle of wiping down when Elijah appeared shudders and _twists_. Connor’s hand jerks away from the desk, gaze flicking to Elijah in mildly alarmed askance. But the demon is sipping his whiskey, expressing no visible interest in either Connor or the call. By the time the man refocuses his attention to the phone, the rattling is gone.

(Had he imagined that, then? The sudden darkness, encroaching.)

“Yes sir.” He says, and spends the next two minutes repeating the same two words while wondering if Elijah’s patience is running thin. He ends the call a little sooner than normal, not desiring to end up a pool of goo on the floor in case the demon’s patience _does_ run out.

“My apologies about the interruption,” he says, looking back to Elijah. Sometime during the phone call he’d reached into his jacket pocket and withdrawn a coin- an iron coin, protection and habit both, and now he runs his thumb over the grooves and indents, finding himself calmed by the sheer fact of holding it in his hand.

“Your boss doesn’t sound like a very amicable man.” Elijah replies, standing up and leaving his glass of whiskey hovering in the air. There’s a note of something dark in his voice that Connor can’t quite decipher. “He sounds exceptionally replaceable, in fact.”

He makes his way over to the cupboard where Connor stores snacks, keeps in case someone comes over, and pushes his hand through the cupboard door to pluck out a Mars bar. The snacks are there because Connor doesn’t normally have anything on hand to cook for a guest.

The cupboard itself is pointedly outside the reach of the summoning circle.

Connor reconsiders whether or not he would have been safe anyway.

He does not normally indulge in sweets, and it’s possibly just as well because the demon doesn’t offer him one before lounging back down in his chair and peeling away the chocolate wrapper. Connor finds it difficult to pinpoint how the demon makes peeling a Mars bar wrapper look so sophisticated.

“I’ll make you an offer.” The demon begins, examining the chocolate bar before taking an obligatory bite. “An exceedingly generous offer, if I must say so myself. You’ve been trying to clean up your apartment, haven’t you?” He waits for Connor’s nod to continue speaking. “I would be happy to help you in your endeavour. Clear out all the poltergeists, the half-remembered charms you’d only waste your time trying to undo. And in return you’ll allow me to stay.”

“... Not to refuse,” Connor begins after a delayed moment, watching Elijah take another sip of whiskey and wondering how well it can possible pair with the chocolate. “But I’m perfectly able to deal with that on my own.” A little because he’s fairly certain the demon already knows, he continues, “I have a background for it.”

The demon’s mouth curls in a half smile. The lights flicker- Connor’s heart stumbles. But then it’s gone, the lights are yellow and warm and there’s nothing but glittering amusement in the demon’s gaze. Or perhaps something darker, hidden behind that mirth. “Yes,” Elijah murmurs. “I had thought you might.”

He sets his glass of whiskey-- somewhere. Likely nowhere in the human realm, as it disappears from existence the moment his fingers leave the glass hanging mid-air. “However, you _are_ in my summoning circle, and it seems your options are limited. So I would hope we have an agreement.”

Connor’s brow furrows. It is, unfortunately, true; he's been completely at the demon’s mercy since the summoning circle activated. This is rather better than getting dragged to Hell for an eternity of hellfire and suffering: something that befalls most humans foolish enough to step into their own summoning circles.

He wonders if there isn't an ulterior motive for it.

But he doesn't really have a choice. Connor runs his coin over his knuckles and nods. “I suppose we do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a kudos =D or leave me a prompt in the comments ;)


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